


Space Creep

by BambiDoe



Category: Bandom, My Chemical Romance
Genre: Alternate Universe - Diners, Frerard, Gen, Hesitant Alien Gerard, M/M, previously titled: unearthly, rewritten fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-23
Updated: 2019-06-16
Packaged: 2019-11-28 06:35:54
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,576
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18204818
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BambiDoe/pseuds/BambiDoe
Summary: Frank meets a very, very strange customer.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> hello! yes! i already posted this story. it's still in my works because i actually hated it but other people seemed to like it so i just kinda let it sit and rot on here because i didn't have the heart to delete it.
> 
> im rewriting it. the beginning isn't THAT much different (i just did some editing because i kinda liked the first chapter) but im probably going to shorten it into two parts instead of a full multi-chapter fic. 
> 
> thanks for reading! i hope people are still interested in it after all this time lol.

Weekend mornings at the diner are usually pretty hectic.This morning, it’s particularly bad. They’re short staffed. Only two waiters, rushing back and forth until the next crew rolls in for the lunchtime shift. Frank rushes from table to table, refilling orange juices and handing out receipts. Most of the customers here are regulars, and most of them are retired. Who else has time to sit down and eat a full breakfast anyway?

But, sitting by himself at a booth, is a man with bright red hair and an obnoxious blue suit. He looks uncomfortable and out of place, almost like he knows he shouldn’t be here for some reason. Frank wants to talk to him so bad but, he’s all the way on the other side of the room. Bert is supposed to serve that section.

At first, he tries to ignore him. He’s just a weird looking dude. That’s all. There’s nothing special about him other than the fact that he’s the only person here that isn’t a hundred and thirty years old. If he were at a show, or a bar, or a library, he’d blend right in. It doesn’t stop Frank from making up little backstories for him in his head. What if he murdered someone and he’s hiding from the cops? Or maybe he’s meeting someone to sell drugs. He looks like he could sling some cocaine...

That doesn’t explain why he’s wearing a suit, though.

Could it be some kind of bizarre sex thing?

Bert is still busy taking a big family’s order. The red-haired man is still sitting at the table, eyes darting back and forth as he watches everyone.

Fucking weirdo.

What is he doing? He’s so damn fascinating. 

There’s still a chance. If he never sees this guy again, he’ll regret not talking to him. It’ll haunt Frank for a while (or at least until he forgets all about him).

Frank motions for Bert to come over when he’s finished with what he’s doing.

“What’s up?” He asks.

It takes Frank a few moments to come up with a way to ask without making it obvious that he's really interested in this particular guy. The second Bert finds out, he’ll want to get in on it too. He’ll say “no” and serve the guy himself.

“You look like you need a cigarette. I’ll cover your tables for you if you wanna take a break.” He offers.

It doesn’t take much to convince Bert to go on break. He’s a decent waiter (when he wants to be) but he’s lazy as all hell.

“Are you sure?” Bert asks. “You’re gonna be stuck dealin’ with all these motherfuckers by yourself.”

Out of all the diner’s employees, Frank is his favorite. He doesn’t want to inconvenience him and, that’s nice and all but, Frank is totally fine with it right now.

“Yeah! Go ahead! That family looked like they were givin’ ya hell.”

Bert glances at the red haired man, and then back at Frank. He looks so hesitant.

“I kinda wanna serve that weird guy, though.”

It takes almost all of Frank’s self control not whisper “shit!” under his breath. Bert must feel the same way he does.

“I wanna serve him too. Maybe you can take his drink order and then I’ll bring it to him. That way we both get a chance.”

Bert furrows his brow like he’s considering it. He can’t say no to that.

“Alright. I’ll let you take his order but, you have to serve that one family with the five kids next time they come in.”

The family is obnoxious and they never tip more than a dollar no matter how good the service is. They’re like, a prime example of the worst kinds of customers. But, Frank accepts Bert’s offer and promises to give him all of the details as soon as he’s done. It’ll be worth it.

“Hi. I’m sorry about the wait. It’s been a busy morning. My name is Frank and I’ll be your waiter today. Can I start you off with something to drink? We offer free refills on coffee until noon.”

“I’ll have a coffee.” The man says. He sounds vaguely annoyed by Frank’s presence and it’s disappointing. Frank is only doing his job. This guy might not be as cool and interesting as Frank had hoped. He’s probably just some pretentious asshole who thinks he’s hot shit because he wears suits every day.

“Would you like any cream or sugar with it?” Frank asks. 

He’s putting on his best customer service voice, raising it what feels like a dozen octaves.

“Sugar.”

And then he goes back to looking at the menu.

At least he’s looking at the menu and not tracking everyone’s movement now.

As soon as Bert returns to the kitchen, he asks Frank how everything went down.  
“The dude just wanted a coffee.” Frank replies. “He seemed like a dick to be honest. You can take his order from here if you want. I’m over it.”

Frank’s curiosity is satisfied. Red Haired Man is a fake. There’s nothing special about him. Bert, on the other hand, is still excited to interact with him. Nothing Frank says will deter him from going over to his table and bringing him his coffee.

“I’m gonna tell him I like his hair.” Bert says. He pours the coffee unto the mug, spilling a tiny bit of it onto the counter. “Maybe he’ll like me better.”

“Go for it.” Frank says, apathetically.

He watches Bert enthusiastically make his way over to Red Haired Man’s table.

He forgot the sugar.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> proofreading?? don't know her.
> 
> thanks for reading!

Red Haired Man shows up again the next morning.

Same time.

Same seat.

Same ugly blue suit.

Frank didn’t expect him to be here again. Yesterday, he seemed like he was anxious to leave. Why would he come back?

“The freak is back.” Bert says, quietly. He keeps his voice low even though the kitchen is loud and there’s really no chance that a customer is going to hear him from all the way in the dining area. 

“Yeah. I saw him. I’m surprised he came back after you fucked up his coffee.” Frank teases.

Bert decides to pretend like he didn’t hear but, Frank can tell by the look on his face that he wants to clap back. 

“Don’t fuckin’ look at me like that, Bee. You know I’m not wrong. Am I wrong?”

Again, Bert keeps his mouth shut. He turns all of his attention towards filling up a few glasses with ice.

Frank glances around the kitchen to see if anyone is looking. When no one is looking, he comes up behind Bert and lightly swats him on the back of the head.

“You fuckin’ piece of shit. I’m gonna get you back for that.” Bert laughs.

“Yeah? Good luck trying. Maybe you won’t fuck it up like you did that dude’s coffee.”

Red Haired Man looks a lot less distressed this time. He doesn’t look happy by any means. But, his eyes aren’t darting back and forth and he doesn’t give off the vibe that he would rather be anywhere but here.

Frank puts on his best “customer service smile” and approaches his table.

Here goes nothing.

“Hello! My name is Frank and I’ll be your server today. Can I get you started with anything today?”

His voice always raises a few octaves when he’s reciting his whole waiter spiel and he hates it.

“Just a coffee.”

He seems annoyed, again. Frank doesn’t understand why. This is what happens at restaurants. You go, sit down, and then someone comes and asks you what you want. If you don’t want someone to ask you what you want, you don’t fuckin’ go to a restaurant. There’s nothing to be angry about.

“Would you like cream or sugar?”

“I would really like sugar but, last time I was here, the guy forgot it so...” He trails off waving one of his hands towards the kitchen.”

“I’m so sorry about that, sir.” He pretends to be appalled. “I’ll be sure it gets to you this time. Is there anything else I can get you?”

“No. That’s all.”

He didn’t follow the script but, it’s not too late. Frank still has another shot. When he brings his coffee (and sugar), he’ll ask him something. He doesn’t quite know what that it, yet but, he’ll figure it out when he gets there.

Hundreds of people come in every day but, for some reason, this guy just really stands out.

Across the diner, Frank can see Bert watching, trying to see if Red Haired Man is gonna do something weird. It’s not just Frank. Other people must sense something off about him, too. A couple of people at the other tables keep shooting glances at him.

That could just be because of the hair and the suit, though. 

“Here you go, sir. One coffee, and some extra sugar just in case.”

The man looks down at his mug and then back up at Frank.

“Please don’t call me ‘sir’. That’s not really something I’m comfortable with.”

Oh no.

Frank’s face feels like it might actually give the sun a run for its money as far as heat goes.

“I’m sorry. It’s just something we’re trained to do here. It’s supposed to give the place an old-fashioned vibe y’know?”

He feels so bad for assuming. Most people that come by are old, though. They’re the kind of people that believe that genitals equals gender. No one has ever complained about it. In fact, they all find it endearing when the young “tatted-up-punk-kid” waiters call them ma’am or sir.

Red Hair looks intently into Frank’s eyes.

“I understand. Thank you.”

Then, they empty a sugar packet into his coffee and stirs it.

“This stuff is good.”

Frank has no idea if they’re talking about the coffee or the sugar. Maybe both together?

“Oh! I’m glad you like it! Our coffee is some of the best in the area.”

That’s a lie. It’s just plain Folgers coffee brewed in an old Bunn coffee maker that has probably been hanging around in the kitchen since the nineties.

“Yeah?” Red Hair asks. It almost seems like they’ve never had coffee before in their life. Frank wants to ask them so many questions so bad but, he has other tables to wait on. He can’t stand here all day and hover around while Red Hair drinks their coffee.

“We do unlimited refills so if you need some more, let me know.”

And, with that, he walks off to go check on his other tables.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i uh....put off doing this chapter because writer's block and then i ended up keeping it almost the same as before so it was just a huge wait for nothing sorry!
> 
> it's probably going to be longer than i thought because i cant just end it in two chapters like i thought i could lol.
> 
> also, on an unrelated note. i discontinued+deleted aries x virgo because it ended up getting WAY too difficult to write and i let it sit for too long and i forgot where i was going with it and no one was reading it anyway so thats that on that.
> 
> im trying to write more when i have free time because i miss it.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this was SUPPOSED to be the last chapter because i just wanted this to be a short thing but i cant really just end it here so it's probably gonna be second to the last lol

Red Hair shows up yet again.

Same time.

Different seat.

Same blue suit.

Their usual table has been occupied by a rough looking man in his forties with long grey hair and a tattoo of a snake on his forearm that looks like it was done in the mid-eighties and hasn’t been touched up since.

They looks content this time, though.

“Hi. What can I get for you today? The usual?” Frank asks. 

He doesn’t bother going through the whole “My Name is Frank” thing this time. Red Hair has been here enough times in a row that he doesn’t feel like he needs to go through it again. It would be more weird if he pretended like he didn’t recognize them.

‘Yeah. And can I get...uh...” They pause and looks back at the menu. “What do eggs taste like?”

What do eggs taste like?

“I mean, you can get em fried, scrambled, sunny-side up...” Frank replies. He isn’t really sure what they’re asking.

“I mean, do they taste good?” They ask.

Frank shrugs.

“Between you and me, I dunno. I’ve never had ‘em here. I don’t really eat eggs. People like ‘em, though. Bert says they’re okay.”

That probably didn’t sound very convincing but, they’re eggs. Eggs are pretty much impossible to fuck up.

“I guess I’ll try ‘em...” 

They sound so reluctant. Frank almost wants to try to sway them in a different direction. Maybe get them to try the pancakes or something.

“How would you like ‘em cooked? Scrambled? Fried?”

They shrug.

“I don’t know. Whatever.”

Frank is so confused. Red Hair sounds exactly like they’re from Jersey. They’ve got the whole Jersey accent down perfectly, but they’ve never had eggs before? How have they never heard of fucking scrambled eggs? They have to be from somewhere else.

He tries to think of a place where eating eggs isn’t a thing. People eat eggs everywhere, right?

“Okay! I’ll ask the kitchen what they recommend. Anything else?”

They shake their head.

“No. I don’t think so--Oh! By the way. My name’s Gerard.”

“Gerard.” Frank repeats the name like he’s never heard it before in his life. “It’s nice to meet you, Gerard. I’ll be right back with your coffee.”

As soon as he gets back to the kitchen, Bert is in his personal space, asking what went down.

“They’re name is Gerard and I don’t think they know what eggs are.” Frank says.

Bert looks confused.

“What the fuck? Like, did he ask what they were?”

It’s so bizarre. Frank almost feels like, maybe, the whole thing is a joke. This person might just be some fucking weirdo playing a big prank on him.

But then again, why would they? Why would they go through the trouble of fucking with some rando waiters at a diner? There’s nothing special about Frank or Bert that would make them a target for someone like that.

“They asked me what they tasted like.”

Bert looks so fucking bewildered. It’s hard for Frank not to laugh. 

“I know. It sounds crazy. They sound like they’re from Jersey but, I dunno where they’re really from. They can’t be from around here unless they’re just fuckin’ nuts.”

“You gotta ask him where he’s from.” Bert says. “Don’t make it a big deal. Just like, bring it up casually.”

That’s not a bad idea. It’s so obvious. Frank can’t believe he didn’t think of just straight up asking before. All he has to do is just think of a way to slip it into normal conversation without sounding like he’s either stalking him or accusing him of something.

He rushes to Gerard’s table as soon as the coffee is ready. Bert checks up on the people sitting at the closest table to Gerard’s just so he can eavesdrop.

“The rest of your meal will be right with you!” Frank tells Gerard, cheerfully.

He hopes Gerard says something, anything, other than a simple “thank you.”

“Thanks.”

That gives him nothing to work with. Frank has to come up with another plan.

“You from around here?” Frank asks.

For some reason, his heart is pounding and his hands are sweating. He’s got other tables to check on so, he has to make this quick.

Gerard looks nervous all of a sudden. They’re back to the way they were the first day, shifty eyed and tense.

“Look. I don’t know you, but I feel like your someone I can trust. Give me your hand.”

Two teenage girls sitting next to the window are watching like they’re expecting something exciting to happen. One of them gestures towards Frank and mouths something to the other. It’s weird seeing people under the age of forty here.

Gerard hands Frank a folded up piece of paper.

“Keep it. Don’t open it until you get home.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading!!!!!! 
> 
> btw what should i write next bc i have 0 ideas????


End file.
